Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1887-01-27
wHATHAPPEyED.


"Do you suppose there is any letter for
me Mrs. ParsonsF
II was four O'Clock in the afternoon
al least so the Parsons clock, which was
never more than three-quarters OF an
hour out OF the way, registered the time
The sun was slowly dropping down TO-
wards the November woods, and Mrs.
Parsons had just emerged from the
kitchen, with an apple pie in either hand
into the room where / sat on the window
sill, dangling my feet in state OF nope
less boredom.
I had come 20 Boone Mountain to teach
wax nower-making and lustre- painting
to class OF ambitious farmers daugh-
ters. DR., Pryce had said that the pine
scented air would be good for my weak
chest, also, and had secret longing to
make little money to help mama and
Bess along. SO here / was, boarding with
Mrs. Parsons, aud doing what / could to
make the time pass lightly, after the
lessons we're over. There was no amu5e-
ment left me except flirting With Edward
Parsons. my hostess's stalwart son.
didn't mean 20 make him miserabie
only intended TO amuse myself. was
pretty; ! knew that every time | looked
into the little cherry looking
glass over my bedroom washing stand
and where was the use of being pretty If
one couldn't make ones innocent little
conquestsf
"WcH, % said Mrs. Parsons IN answer 70
my question. there monght be, and then,
again, there mOughtn't"
'lHas the strange coach come in!'
"Iheard the horn, Eve minutes ago.
answered my landlady.
l jumped down with alacrity from my
aerial perch,
swell, III go to the postoflce at any
rate" said l.
Sure you can find the way said Mrs.
Parsons.
do YOU take me for Babe in tho
Wood" said /, laughing, quoting the sad
refrain.
The pretty robins, mouufuiy,
Did coser them with leaves
I'm zot ready for my leaf jacket get, and
[ haven't the least intention of getting
lost"
Its two good miles, said Mrs. Par
sons, who was OF rather sombre tenn
permanent, and seldom smiled at my sal
lies. "And the days are growing very
short"
"There's plenty Of time" said !, hur-
riedly twisting a white and blue Saxon
cloud about my neck, and adjusting
my little straw hat on top of the mat of
curls which made me look like school
boy.
And away tripped, enjoying every
breath OF the frost touched e:c vhistling
gayly TO the squirrels that darted along
fallen tree trunks, gathering a knot OF
berries here tuft of scarlet autumn
leaves there, and reached the postoifce in
good time.
There was no letter. | might have
known there would be no letter. 1t was
not the day on which letto,s usually came
10 me. But, after al, had had the nice
breezy walk; / had gotten out of the at
mosphere of Mrs. Parsons melancholy
hymn she always sang 1T on baking
days "Hark, from the Tombs Doleful
sound and there was just the posi-
tility of meeting Ned Parsons, on his
way back from Black Valley, as walked
home.
Ned was certainly brilliant young
fellow, though he had been brought up on
a farm. He amused me- | liked to as
tonish him with my saucY sayings. my
verbal shooting stars. And he was real
liz handsomor all things considered, than
Bert Phillips, in New York, who had al
ways heretofore, been my model of manly
perfection.
The sun was down, now, There was
only red glow above the tree-tops
where few minutes ago the glittering
orb OF day had hung. But cared little
for that, The twilights were long, and
| knew Ned was not expected back early.
But how | came 10 take the wrong turn
ing at Speuce's Mill, / cannot, TO this
day tell. did take it, though; for pres
entity I found myself hopelessly lost
ON that side of the mountain known as
wild Cat Ledge
rort@nately, there were no wildcats in
the rocky fastness, now or a. least so
Mrs. Parsons had told me but il was by
no means pleasant 20 be there alone, in
the gathering gloom, with the wind roar
ing IN the tree boughs overhead, and from
the valley. far below.
! stood still and looked around me.
well, said I, aloud, I'm lost in the
woods, after all"
And ] hazarded q hysteric sort of laugh,
which died into a tremueous giggle as the
sound of my own words came back TO me
in mouruful echo.
was on the point o. tuding up matters
in a good, hearty burs, % tears when
something sounded ON tho dead leaves
not FAR away like the mutlled tread of a
beast.
Bears, Had 1 not always heard that
this particular range of mountains was
productive, every now and then, of a
savage bearg Did not Mrs. Parsons her
self possess bear skin wageu-robe which
had been the trophy of her husbands
own rifle and hunting knifej Had not
Ned himself once shot bears cub within
q hundred yards Of the old red barn.
sprang TO my feet, and driven by fran
tic terror climbed up the nearest tree,
which afforded temporary refuge.
was no great naturalist, but knew that.
ordinarily speaking, bears were not in
the habit of climbing trees.
From my breezy station | could look
down through a network of moving
boughs and sprays ana see something
dark pausiug at the foot OF the tree, and
presently il settled down among the dead
leaves there. as II it gere fully determined